Grave
by pansymoomalfoy32
Summary: S2/S3 Angelus needs a willing sacrifice for Acathla and finds one in his childe Drusilla. Spike tries to stop Dru's death but he's too late. In a fit of rage, Spike throws himself into a death match with Angelus. Buffy brings Spike in as a prisoner. Can Buffy find her way back to a healthy place where she feels alive again? And will she drag Spike, kicking and screaming, with her?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer going forward: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Grave Beginning

The procession to the old factory on Crawford Street is solemn. Buffy takes point with her blessed blade. Giles follows with his tome and extra stakes. Willow and Oz, carrying crossbows, keep time with Xander and his blowtorch.

Buffy has known too much solemnity since her calling and especially since her seventeenth birthday.

Since Angel became Angelus.

Since Ms. Calendar.

Since Kendra.

Buffy would be hard pressed to say which loss has been hardest to bear.

This, all of this, is her responsibility. Buffy is the Slayer. The one girl in all the world.

The Powers That Be must have flubbed when they picked her. All she does is make mistakes, left and right. Maybe that's why Slayers aren't supposed to have friends-so if a Slayer should suck at her job and die, a friend wouldn't come along and breathe her back to life again, allowing her to go on making more bad calls and getting people killed.

Kendra…Buffy thinks her sister slayer would still be alive if Buffy hadn't been so stupid. She'd let herself be distracted by the suicidal vamp in her classroom. _Meet Angelus in the cemetery_. Obviously, a trap. She let herself be led away and that gave Drusilla all the opportunity she needed to voodoo up and kill Kendra.

Thank goodness Buffy made it back before the insane vampiress hurt anyone else.

If Buffy lives through this confrontation with Angelus, she knows she'll be having nightmares about finding all of her friends sprawled across the familiar old library, throats slashed.

No. No. This nightmare ends today.

They take position up on the catwalk and blend into the creeping shadows there. Buffy is under no illusion that Angelus won't notice them, if he hasn't already. Just because a predator gives no indication of seeing its prey doesn't mean it won't pounce and savage at the slightest provocation. Buffy herself has used this tactic.

In the arena below, Angelus stalks around a raised dais upon which Acathla rests.

Drusilla practically floats around the peripheral of the stone-walled room. Her white lace dress brushes the dirt floor. Angelus is ordering around his minions. "No, you numbskull, to the left—" directing the proceedings with an iron fist. Even as they watch, Angelus dusts two vamps. One moves too slowly for him, the other for no apparent reason.

The monster wearing Buffy's lover's face flips through a book old enough and musty enough to rival Giles' collection. Actually—

Giles sputters, "My codex! The recordings! Fiend! He must have sent Drusilla after it when she—"

Desecrated their safe place? Killed _Kendra_ in the _library_ with the _thrall_ , she'd like to make an accusation, please? Yeah.

Giles, minding his volume, ducks his head down to Buffy's ear and whispers, "He may have the knowledge he needs to complete the ritual. Remember what to watch for?"

Buffy nods, the debriefing still crystal clear in her head. Blood of the ritual-doer and some chant-y words opens the portal. Only the same blood can close it. Buffy will intervene once they have the advantage of the rising sun, or in the unlikely event that Angelus can scrounge up a selfless, willing, sacrifice to begin the whole mess—

"Drusilla, doll, come here. I've got something really important to do and I need your help." Angelus' voice booms across the wide open space, both demanding and coaxing.

"Blast! That could actually work." Giles mutters next to Buffy.

Willow shoots them a wide-eyed look. "But didn't he, you know, make her?"

"Just because you're a parent doesn't mean you're good to your kid," Xander says grimly.

The group's conversation is camouflaged by the remaining minions noisily covering window openings with sheet metal to block the coming sun.

No sun advantage. And a possible sacrifice. Buffy doesn't know why she's surprised. Nothing is sacred to Angelus.

A tingle on the back of her neck coils her muscles and springs her into action. Buffy turns neatly, an economy of motion, and wields her sword before her.

Spike. The sight of him up and about on healed legs stops her short for a moment. But what stays her hand is his complete disregard for her and her friends, all of whom are armed to the teeth in vampire slaying gear.

Spike steps fluidly up to the catwalk railing and grips it tightly with both hands. His dark brows are drawn together in apparent concern.

Oz snaps his crossbow up to aim at the Slayer of Slayers. Willow gasps at Oz's elbow, but Spike pays them no mind. He leans farther over the railing to take in Drusilla tripping lightly over compact dirt on dancer's feet, in long fanciful arcs that slowly bring her closer to Angelus and Acathla.

"What…?" Spike mutters to himself. The minions finish blocking the windows and melt back into the shadows that creep along the edges of the torch-lit chamber.

Giles puts a hand on Oz's shoulder. The quiet musician slowly lowers his weapon.

Buffy knows what Giles is thinking. Let Angelus sacrifice Drusilla, _coward, Slayer-killer,_ and let Spike be distracted by it. The fewer master vampires Buffy has to personally put down, the better. She won't even need the advantage of the sun's deadly rays at her back if the vamps start tearing each other apart first.

Two more minions spread out a rune detailed cloth on the dais with the utmost care and back away quickly.

Spike's knuckles go white on the rail.

Angelus holds an imperious hand out to Drusilla.

"No." Spike says clearly, next to Buffy.

The seemingly frail, beautiful vampire glides to Angelus and reaches out her hand.

"No!" Spike calls out, loudly. Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy sees Xander flinch as all the attention in the chamber swings up to the catwalk. Angelus' face morphs into a wolfish grin when he catches sight of Buffy.

Drusilla turns fully to face them. She clasps her hands and bounces on her toes, excitedly. "Ooooh, my William!" Her voice slips and slides, drawing the syllables out. "Daddy, look! Our William can walk again." She wears a charming Cheshire cat grin.

The older vampire's lip curls into a snarl, "Yes, that is quite the surprise." Angelus grabs Drusilla's shoulders and yanks her around. She lets out a little yip. "Focus, Dru. Remember, I need you to help me. Will you do that, baby? It needs to be now."

Spike's body vibrates with tension as he leans across the railing, teetering over the edge from the force of his shouts. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare, Angelus! Dru, get away from him!" Spike rocks back on his feet then hurtles down the grated stairs.

The fear and fury in his voice leaves Buffy's throat closed tight with borrowed anxiety.

Drusilla's head turns over where Angelus still grips her shoulders to peep at Spike with nervous eyes. "Daddy…"

His large hands appear capable of crushing her delicate looking arms to dust. Angelus shakes her.

She gazes up at Angelus, her back to Buffy and the others on the catwalk. Buffy can't make out what the mad vampiress says, but Buffy observes Angelus nod in rushed agreement. Drusilla takes his hand.

"Drusilla!" Spike shouts hoarsely, abandoning the rest of the stairs to leap over the railing and tuck and roll on the ground. He clumsily regains his footing and charges forward.

Angelus guides Drusilla to the steps.

"No, Dru, don't do it! Don't you listen to him, Dru!" Spike is half a room away and dashing closer.

Drusilla doesn't acknowledge him as she steps up onto the rune covered cloth of her own willpower.

"NO—"

Spike's horrified scream is cut off by a tidal wave of power bursting from Drusilla. The force of the blast radius rockets him back several paces. Buffy puts a hand up to shield her eyes from the unholy bright light washing over the room. Her watcher and friends duck and cover their eyes.

When it's over, Drusilla is just an empty husk draped over the platform. Her body is intact, but her mouth is open in a soundless scream, eyes burnt away into hollow sockets. Steam rises from her inert form.

The room smells of scorched earth.

Spike staggers to his feet and sobs Drusilla's name. He runs, stride weaving unsteadily, until he reaches her and collapses by her side.

Feeling like a voyeur, Buffy watches Spike gather Drusilla up into a desperate, gentle embrace.

"Dru, Dru, princess, wake up." Spike rocks her, patting her face. One of Drusilla's arms flops down, bonelessly. Spike grasps her wrist and brings it to his face, inhaling her scent and choking. Spike shifts the dainty woman around so her head is cradled in one of his leather-clad arms. "No, no, no—" Gut-deep wails. "Please wake up, Dru, please!" Off to the side, Angelus shoots the pair a disgusted look before resuming his inspection of the scorched cloth and Acathla. A hum buzzes in the background; power coalescing.

Willow has a hand covering her mouth. Her eyes are wide and wet.

Spike's grief is unexpectedly horrible. Or maybe it's the way Drusilla died, led like a lamb to slaughter. Staring down at the broken vampire clan, Buffy feels something sharp catch in her chest.

Spike shakes his sleeve back and cuts his own wrist with his fangs and places dripping red against Drusilla's mouth.

"Quit it, Willy boy. You're embarrassing yourself. She's gone, demonic energy got sucked up in payment." Angelus drops the rune-cloth at Acathla's feet and brushes off the statue idly.

Buffy snaps out of it and hefts her sword, preparing to descend and end this freak show when Spike's quiet, shocked weeping changes.

Each gulping breath charges into anger and Spike raises his head from his lost lover to snarl, "You bastard! You rat bastard. How could you fucking do this? This is Drusilla!"

Angelus swings around, apparently losing interest in the statue in favor of savoring someone else's misery.

"Yeah. And?"

"She would've done anything for you! She was your childe, and you led her to die! That's not how we do things!"

"Is it not?" Angelus says in mocking question. He moves closer to Spike, like a jackal circling a wounded antelope. Probing for the weak spot.

"No! What, why…" Spike breaks off, tucking Drusilla tighter to him a moment. He beholds Angelus with an accusatory disbelief. "It was you and Darla who taught us that. Taught us about family. What happened to, 'an eternity is a long time to walk this earth without family?'" Spike spits the last word, bitterly.

Angelus laughs. "I'll tell you what happened, boy. I got sick and tired of her carrying on about this, on about that—"

Spike's voice cracks with outrage, "That's who she is! You made her that way!" Spike glares fiercely over Drusilla's dark hair. "And how the hell could you be sick of her? You just got back!"

"What you fail to understand is that we are moving up in the world. I don't have time for burdens and while she had her…uses...a burden is all she'd become." Angelus licks his lips and pins Buffy with a look from afar. "Don't worry, Spike. I'm working on her replacement as we speak."

Bile surges to Buffy's throat. Giles practically growls, next to her.

Spike's emotions seem to have twisted from near-violent anger to despair again. He presses his forehead to Drusilla's, voice ragged. "She's irreplaceable. You sonuva bitch. She was it."

Angelus talks right over Spike's hunched form, directing his words to the group on the catwalk. "And hey, tell you what? After I get a couple of centuries' use out of our Buff here, I'll give her to you, no hard feelings. I know how much you love my sloppy seconds."

All hell breaks loose. Xander shouts down, "You bastard!" as Giles cries out in wordless outrage.

Behind Angelus, Spike's demonic face emerges and he tackles the older vamp in a flying leap.

Like kicking off an unruly pup, Angelus regains his balance and sends Spike flying. The bleached blonde vampire barely hits the floor before he is scrabbling up to charge Angelus again.

Buffy watches, numb, as Angelus bats Spike away each time. Buffy has fought both master vamps. Spike is better than this, it shouldn't be such a one-sided-

As he gets to his feet again, Spike swipes a furious hand over his tear-stained face.

Of course. Angelus always wins because he always has the emotional advantage.

It's not something Buffy would think would apply to another vampire in battle, and yet…

"Is it wrong that I'm rooting for Spike to win?" Oz mutters darkly.

Angelus knocks Spike to the ground again. "Big Bad Spike. You're just a twisted mess inside aren't you? Look at you. You call yourself a demon? Disgusting, how upset you get over these things. How emotional." Angelus sneers, "I think Drusilla really did turn you wrong, boy, just as she turned all her other childer wrong. The way you act, you must have at least half your humanity left, festering inside." Angelus shudders as if in remembrance.

He would hate the idea, Buffy realizes. Angelus hates the thought of his soul.

"Is that even possible?" Giles breathes, shocked. What, that Spike has some kind of humanity? Buffy seriously doubts that.

Angelus tips his head up to soak in the group's attention. "Well Spike, it's been fun while it lasted, but we've got a little girl waiting in the wings for her time to shine."

Spike spits blood. "You fucking idiot. She's not some little girl, she's the goddamned Slayer and tell you something," Spike yanks a piece of rebar loose from the run-down building. "I know Slayers and I know this. Long as the two of us stand here, ready to duke it out, she isn't doing shit. She's gonna wait for us to kill each other or tire each other out before she joins in."

Angelus switches his stare from Spike's strained and furious expression to Buffy's stone cold killer face. The one she practiced especially for this fight in the mirror at home. At…her mother's home.

Something moves behind Angelus' expression. He spots the long-range weapons in their hands. Turning to his side to make a smaller target, Angelus sneaks a look over to Acathla.

But Spike has regained some of his equilibrium and moved himself directly in Angelus' path to the statue.

Angelus sneers, "If you know so much, then why don't you stand down? Drag this out and you'll be dust, Spike, by my hand or hers."

Spike laughs joylessly. "Whatsamatter, Angelus? Getting nervous? You great, bleeding coward."

"Spike," Angelus' voice rings with patience lost. "Give it up. I can count on one hand how many times over the last hundred plus years you've one-upped me."

Spike approaches, gesturing wildly with the rebar, eyes so wide with a hysterical edge that the whites are visible all the way around the irises. "Hundred years? Would that be the same hundred or so years you have on me? The same years you abandoned us and spent scrabbling among rats, wasting away while I cut my teeth on worthy opponents and drank Slayer blood? Face it, old man." Spike's expression has turned nasty. "Whatever edge you had on me is long gone."

Angelus' hands clench into fists. He looms. "Step up and I'll put you down, boy."

Spike's chest heaves with unneeded breaths. "Not this time, you fucking bastard. I'm no fledge and I'm no paraplegic. Know you hate anything resembling a fair fight, but why don't we shake things up a bit?"

In a blink, the two vamps are on each other like savage beasts. Snarling and slashing, they clash together and apart and together again.

Buffy notices with detachment that the rebar is a good idea. It gives Spike the distance he needs to stay out of Angelus' long reach and massive paws.

It's a pretty even fight.

Spike's skill and fury matches up to Angelus' strength and size.

Every time, Angelus gets too close, Spike jabs the rebar up and into Angelus' joints: shoulder, hip, collarbone. It keeps the bigger vamp off-balance and pisses him off. Spike swings in plenty of kicks to knees, ribs, even Angelus' face.

Angelus fights like a bear, bodily picking Spike up and slamming him back down, smashing his boot into Spike's face once, knocking him around.

Spike whips the bar at Angelus' head and he ducks under it, charging Spike. Spike brings the bar back in to whack the side of Angelus' head as the pair tumble down to the dirt. Spike continues the momentum and uses his feet as a springboard to launch the older vamp up and over his head to slam into the wall.

Willow clutches her crossbow close to her chest like a teddy bear. "They're going to kill each other!"

"One can only hope," Giles grits out.

Buffy watches, rapt, at the sight of two master vampires tearing into each other. It's not something she's ever witnessed before.

At one point, Angelus catches the tail end of Spike's long leather coat and yanks it up to trap his arms above his head and to blind his vision. Spike is forced to drop his weapon.

Spike snarls and dances out of the way of most of Angelus' meaty hits to his flank. Spike manages to close distance to gain slack and squirm out of the coat sleeves. The duster flutters to the ground, forgotten as the battle rages on.

Fists and fangs. Snarls and the thud of flesh on flesh. It's damn even, blow for blow, until Angelus spins Spike around and viciously kicks him in the spine.

"Arghhh!" With a pained cry, Spike collapses gracelessly to the floor.

Struggling to get to his feet, Spike yelps as Angelus grabs his arms and forces them back, planting one boot directly on the younger vampire's spine, the other on the back of Spike's bent leg.

With a nasty grin, Angelus slowly pushes out with his foot and pulls Spike's arms in, forcing him to bow his back the wrong way.

He is going to re-snap Spike's spine.

Spike yells out in pain, whimpering and gasping, knees buckling, and trying to break Angelus' hold. The strain in his face increases drastically.

Willow makes a horrified sound in her throat and turns away.

Buffy, without thinking too hard on her reasons for doing so, deliberately clangs her sword against the rail. Angelus' head swings toward the sound, distracting him enough for Spike to regain his feet and break his opponent's grip.

The battle reengages, but Spike is dragging, his back obviously paining him.

Angelus suddenly body slams Spike to the floor and sinks his fangs into the smaller vamp's neck. Spike shouts and flails his limbs trying to buck the bigger vamp off. Angelus stays latched on, sucking down blood.

The scene eerily resembles an assault of a different kind.

Buffy watches with bated breath as Spike's hand grasps the ground beside him and finds a large shard of broken glass.

He jams it into Angelus' ear.

With a howl, Angelus rears back and clutches around his injury.

Separated, the two vampires regard each other, wild-eyed and furious. They seem to have completely forgotten about their audience.

Spike, weakened from blood loss, presses a hand to the jagged wound at his neck and Angelus painstakingly removes the glass from his ear.

Spike staggers to his feet.

"I'm going to kill you!" Angelus snarls, clearly off-balance from his useless ear.

Spike stares him down, both defiant and overwhelmed. He looks at Angelus like David probably looked at Goliath. Like an insurmountable foe he doesn't expect to win against, but would die trying to vanquish.

Buffy finds herself sympathetic to Spike's side of the battle, but secretly hopes he loses anyway. She's not sure if that's just to give herself a chance at her own vengeance or if she somehow still doesn't want to see Angelus dust.

Well, she wants to see Angelus dust. Buffy just doesn't want him to be wearing Angel's face when he goes.

She needs to get down there. At this point, Spike's hurt enough he won't be a huge problem and Angelus is hers to kill.

But the two are already clashing again, tumbling into a scrap pile closer to the wall. Angelus shoves Spike down into the sharp metal and staggers back, clutching at his ear again.

Spike grabs hold of something sharp and shiny. He gets up to kick out Angelus' knees and the bigger vamp falls, dizzy.

Spike pins him in an instant, shoving down a widely curved, serrated blade over Angelus' neck.

All movement stills in the room.

If Angelus struggles at all or tries to rise, he will be instantly beheaded. Spike holds the blade firm against his throat, the curved ends sinking into the dirt ground.

Buffy feels the beginnings of panic surge within her. She didn't expect Spike to make it this far.

Angelus experimentally shifts this way and that. Evidently realizing he wouldn't be escaping without Spike's say-so, Angelus changes track, falling limp.

"That's enough, Spike. Come on, Will, let me up."

"Yeah fucking right," the bleached blonde pants above Angelus, eyes dark and wide.

Angelus' voice oozes fake sincerity. "I know you, Spike. You can't stand to be alone. You don't really want to do this." Above him, Spike shakes his head in despair. Angelus soldiers on. "I'm sorry about Dru, alright, but we'll make a new, better family this time around. A less crazy, more reliable one."

Spike laughs wetly, "Mate, I don't even know who the fuck you are. Dru was so excited her daddy had come home, but he never really did, did he? This isn't you. This is madness. The soul's turned you all around. You've lost the plot—"

"Spike—"

"Ending the fucking world. What'd you think was gonna happen? You kill all of the little blood bags, what's left for us to eat?"

"Spike!" Angelus hisses furious and urgent.

"And you're right. I don't want to be alone. I didn't want you and Darla to leave us all those years ago and I sure as _hell_ didn't want to outlive Dru." Spike stills with intent. He glares sightlessly down through Angelus' prone form. "This is nothing. This isn't me killing the last of my family. I'm already alone. They're already dead."

Buffy flings herself away from the railing, but it's too late.

Spike presses down until resistance gives and Angelus' dust settles around him.


	2. Chapter 2

Grave Chapter Two

Buffy finds herself at Spike's side without remembering how she got there. Angelus' dust sticks to the bleach blonde vampire's knees, layers the floor, swirls in the air.

Buffy zeroes in on the floating dust motes in the air that catch like sparks against the torch light. Angel. Angelus. Buffy feels a confused sorrow well up inside of her. Dusted, and she too far away to make out the expression on his face when he disintegrated.

Relief. Cleansing, dizzying relief. Buffy won't have the image of her lover's face exploding into a trillion particles at the end of her stake burned into her mind's eye for the rest of her life.

Anger. Childish, pigheaded fury. Angelus comes into her life, kills people she cares about—kills _Angel_ , shreds Buffy's heart and innocence. Never before has a demon been more clearly marked as Buffy's kill. And Spike stole that from her. Buffy raises her stake hand, still wielding the sword. She should cut off the bastard's head, like he cut off Angelus', she should—

Grief. It overpowers the first two emotions, blanketing over her. Like the rain, it extinguishes Buffy's inner fire in fits and starts, leaving only a simmering ash behind. Buffy can taste it on her tongue.

Buffy told herself again and again that Angel was gone forever. But while Angelus tortured Buffy—her friends, her family-a teensy part of her still hoped even as she hated. Hoped for Angel's return.

And now there's nothing left of the man she loved or the monster that overtook him.

Spike collapses all the way to the ground and rolls to his back.

Slayer and vampire stare numbly at each other.

Buffy can feel the horrible mask her face has twisted into. She waits for Spike to rise.

He doesn't. Palms up, Spike opens his arms and drops them to his sides.

Buffy's instincts scream, _there, target, heart, strike,_ even as her chest clenches at the sight of his supplication.

Spike chokes on a whisper, "Just do it. Just fucking do it, Slayer."

Giving up. Spike is giving up. The wrongness of it creeps into Buffy's limbs, freezing them. This isn't what she expected.

The others have caught up by now. Their voices rise and fall in waves behind Buffy and Spike. They don't matter. Their words are meaningless.

Spike's face twists, "What are you waiting for? Do it! Kill me!" His voice ends on an echoing shout.

"Why." Buffy whispers. Spike laughs hysterically.

"Why, the Slayer asks the vampire at her mercy. I'll tell you why. Because that fucker was right. I've got nothing left, so just do it, alright? No other way I've ever wanted to go out anyway." His is hoarse. And now, coaxing. "It'd be an honor. You're a damn good Slayer and that's the best death out there, so just do it. Do it, do it, do it."

"…see? What if he was right about the humanity? Look at him…" Willow and Giles, deep in discussion and Xander's anxious voice punctuating intermittently.

Buffy can barely hear them over the rushing in her ears, but she hears enough.

"Was…" Angelus' name sticks in her throat. "Was he right about you being turned wrong? Do you still have humanity, Spike?"

Spike stares at her in disbelief, then raises up to his elbows. "Fuck you! You gonna start in on that, too? Poor Spike, can't be a monster, can't be a man!" Spike's voice pitches up high in desperate sarcasm. Buffy slowly lowers her sword. Spike shakes his head, sitting up fully. "What, am I too pathetic to slay now, is that it?" He gets his feet under him, seemingly unaware of the tears running down his face. "What's it gonna take for you to do your _bloody_ job!"

Spike's wild and desperate eyes focus on Buffy's friends behind her. "You want to slay a monster, not a broken sap? Fine, I get it." He vamps and makes to rush past her.

Buffy clotheslines him and viciously kicks him in the temple as he drops to the ground.

It's an instant knockout.

They toss Spike in the back of Oz's van and cover him with his leather duster. Giles insists on bringing Drusilla's corpse along for study, as she is the only vampire ever known to unequivocally die without dusting.

Acathla, Buffy smashes into rubble.

Xander makes an anonymous call to the fire department from the payphone across the street.

The last thing they do is light the old factory on fire before jumping in the van, tires squealing away.

Buffy presses her face against the grimy van window and watches the factory, Acathla, and Angel's dust go up in smoke.

The sun lifts its face above the black horizon.

Buffy secures the manacles around Spike's wrists, binding his hands together. There's no attaching chain for the wall which leaves the unconscious master vampire worryingly free to range about the cage.

"I've been meaning to get wall attachments, at least for Oz' monthly stints in here." Giles mutters agitatedly as they arrange Spike to his liking and lock him inside the rare books cage in Sunnydale High's library.

The library is still trashed from the earlier confrontation. Crime scene tape crosses the entrance and Kendra's chalk outline is still drawn on the floor. With the broken overturned furniture and scattered belongings littering the once spotless room, it looks like a small bomb detonated with the library as the epicenter.

Drusilla's body lays eerily across one of the long study tables where Buffy has shared lunches, jokes, and serious research sessions with her friends. Oz begins quietly cleaning up in the background, starting with the chalk outline.

Buffy drops into a chair and puts her head in her hands. She can't do it. Can't watch Oz erase the criminal evidence while Kendra's murderer rests just a few paces away.

"Where do you want these, Giles?" Willow's voice whispers to Buffy's right. She hears the clang of weaponry.

A sigh. "Well, I suppose I can take the majority home for the summer, at least until the investigation is over."

"And what if they investigate Mr. PCP gang member?" Xander asks, peeved.

"If I'm not mistaken, procedural clean-up is all that remains…"

Buffy stands abruptly and moves to help Willow take all the weapons out of the cage. No sense in letting Spike get his hands on any of them, after all. Even though in their fights Spike hadn't really used weapons, he'd shown some serious skill and adaptability with them in his battle against—

Buffy's whole being freezes up and shies from even thinking about him. It's too raw, too soon.

Too late.

Buffy's eyes burn like she's going to cry, but she remains stoic.

"Blast, the last thing we need is an investigator coming across Drusilla. I suppose we ought to move her to my flat in the meantime. Dear Lord." Giles paces.

"You are the one who wants to get all weird science on her, Giles." Willow points out.

"W-well, _yes_ , but—"

"Okay, but still. Are we ever going to talk about the evil vampy prisoner we have locked up in our library? 'Cuz I think this should be a higher item on the agenda than it's been so far." Xander looks exasperated.

Willow drops the last of the weapons into the large travel trunk Giles had pulled out of his office. She turns to face the group, resolve face on. "I just think we should double check, you know. Drusilla is, I m-mean she _was_ , crazy. What if she messed up when she made Spike into a vampire? I don't want to kill someone who might still have their humanity. If we did that, then what would be the difference between us and other monsters?" Willow looks nervously over to Oz.

Oz, her werewolf-y boyfriend.

Buffy feels a stress headache coming on. All she wants to do is lay down in her bed and cry and refuse to resurface for days and days.

Or lay down in any bed, really, since hers is no longer an option.

Giles peers at Buffy over his glasses. "Spike will keep for now. In the meantime, we could all do with some rest."

"I second that." Oz says from where he's dumped the last of the broken items in the trash bin.

"Maybe Cordy can give us a ride home," Xander capitulates. "I for one, no offense Oz, have no desire to share a seat with Crayzilla over there again. We really oughta call Cordy to let her know it's all over, anyway." Oz just shrugs.

Buffy turns her back to the others and spends an unnecessary amount of time restacking books on the check-out desk.

Giles rubs his forehead. "It'll be a tight squeeze with the weapons chest, but I can drive the rest of you home tonight. Er, this morning. Let Cordelia be, Xander."

"I won't need a ride home," Buffy says without turning around. "Someone needs to keep an eye on Spike."

She feels a heavy silence behind her.

"Well…if you're sure…" Giles says, sounding a little concerned.

"Positive." Buffy says, maybe too perkily as she spins to face her Watcher.

She really doesn't want to explain the whole kicked-out-of-home thing tonight. It's not like she's never pulled an all-nighter here in the library before, especially with Oz on moon-nights. The gang even has pretty decent overnight supplies set up just for cage duty. It wouldn't be so bad.

And then, if she cries, the only one around is an unconscious vampire, not an inquisitive Watcher or a clueless mom. Major plus.

"Alright then. It is a good idea. I just worry what will happen if anyone from the police station or school finds you here, particularly since you've been expelled."

"If I hear anyone, I'll hide. And I'll make sure Spike's hidden, too."

Giles nods and returns his attention to Oz. "And you're positive you don't mind transporting er, Drusilla for our purposes?"

Oz shrugs. "Risk of driving a van. Dead body jokes gotta come from somewhere."

"Right."

Before Buffy knows it, everyone is packing up and filing out to go home. She helps carry the weapons chest to Giles' tiny car and says goodbye to her Watcher and Xander. Willow wraps her in a sudden tight hug before climbing into the car as well. Buffy waves them off, then trudges over to Oz's van. The musician has arranged Drusilla, wrapped in a tarp, in the back of his van.

They stare at the body silently.

"Wonder what Giles will do with her once he's done studying her." Oz remarks off-handedly.

"Dust her, I guess." Buffy says, feeling weird. At one point, she'd been jealous of this woman who'd captured Angel's attention. More recently, she'd been repulsed by her. Angelus' comment about Buffy being Drusilla's replacement still turns her stomach. If Spike hadn't put Angelus down, if Buffy couldn't have brought herself to strike the killing blow, would Angelus have eventually succeeded in taking Buffy to Drusilla's level? It doesn't bear thinking about.

Unexpected pity runs through her. Drusilla let herself be killed for a guy who didn't care about her at all. Angel mentioned how badly he'd ruined Drusilla, but seeing them interact was beyond what Buffy's imagination could've ever conjured up, and that's saying a lot. It was sad, in a way.

Still, the crazy vampire killed Kendra.

Buffy wants Drusilla out of her sight, like, yesterday.

Oz isn't the kind of person to be bothered by long silences, and he continues the conversation easily.

"I just feel odd about just dusting her when she's already dead. And when that Spike guy obviously cares about her so much. If I were him, I'd want to see her…I don't know if 'put to rest' is the right phrase, but yeah. I'd want to be present for it, at least."

"I guess we could bury her." Buffy says.

"Hm. I'll mention it to Giles."

Soon after, Buffy is waving Oz off, too.

The early morning sun has risen enough to light the street. People are getting up, driving places in their cars. Birds are chirping. The air is refreshing, spring-y.

Buffy lets herself back into the dark, quiet school she can no longer attend and enters the library where her sister slayer died.

Buffy pulls out some sleep comforts like a pillow and blanket from Giles' office. She double-checks Spike is still out before she beds down behind the circulation desk.

Sleep does not come easily, and when it does take her, her dreams are full of Angel.

 _Buffy is barefoot on a beach. The sun is shining and ocean waves lap at her feet. Angel stands close behind her._

" _Buffy," he whispers, familiar and beloved. Buffy turns in his embrace. Angel looks so different under the sun. Bright, exposed._

" _I'll always love you, Buffy. Even in death. Even in hell."_

 _She traces his ponderous features with a trembling hand. "No, Angel. Not always."_

" _No, not in the daylight, like this. You're so beautiful, Buffy."_

 _And he is so handsome. He's everything Buffy has longed for. She stands on her tiptoes, sand sinking up to trap her ankles._

 _Their lips meet in a chaste kiss that soon turns heated._

 _Buffy tears herself away, pain blooming in her chest._

 _Angelus stands before her, holding Buffy's still-beating heart in his hands. A fanged grin mars his features. He leans in. "Best night of my life, Buff. But really, I'm not sure if you're worth a second go—"_

Buffy jackknifes up in a tangle of blanket. She shakily wipes the sweat from her brow and tries to orient herself. Where is she?

Books, ink, papers. A stool and a long curved desk.

The library.

Voices echo to Buffy from the hallway beyond the double doors. She stands quickly, kicking her pillow into Giles' office.

Buffy can't see anyone through the circular port windows in the library doors yet. She darts over to the book cage.

Spike is still unconscious. The jagged tear in his throat oozes sluggishly. His skin is translucent, but for the bruises.

Sun from the small window, high up on the side wall, creeps closer to his still form.

Buffy's certain the voices are coming this way.

"Crap," she hisses. Buffy fumbles with the key, then locks herself into the cage with Spike. Crouching behind his limp form, she drags him over to the wall opposite the window with its deadly rays of sunshine. Buffy drapes Spike's duster over him again and arranges the blanket over herself. If anyone comes into the library now, they should be hidden by the file boxes and their makeshift coverings.

Buffy settles down against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Spike.

The doors swing open. Buffy can hear the janitor's voice as he lets in a few others. Buffy remains absolutely still while the men in the main room pick up the crime scene tape and bring in replacements for the broken furniture.

Soon, just the school janitor is left, cleaning up. As the man begins vacuuming up the last of the debris, Spike stirs next to Buffy.

Why couldn't things ever just be easy?

Buffy presses her hand against Spike's mouth through his coat and catches his manacled wrists with her other hand.

The vampire, disoriented from the duster over his head or possibly his injuries, is slow to react at first. Then, he is bucking up against Buffy's restraining hands.

Spike's leg kicks out, hitting the file cabinet with a muffled bang. Crap.

Buffy straddles his stomach and squeezes her legs tight around him until she hears his ribs creak in protest. Spike stills.

The vacuum drones on, uninterrupted. Buffy doesn't move from where she is perched on top of Spike until the janitor packs up and leaves them alone in the library once more.

Buffy climbs off Spike with a grimace. He instantly reaches up and tears the coat away.

"What the fuck?" Spike rasps, painfully sitting up against the wall. Buffy thinks she might have cracked a few of his ribs.

He doesn't look like he's in any real shape to give her problems, so Buffy climbs up onto some short shelves and tests the small window. Still locked, as they leave it for when Oz rides out his wolf time in the cage.

She hops down, ignoring Spike's angry and confused muttering.

Buffy lets herself out of the cage and secures it behind her.

It's obvious when Spike realizes he's been imprisoned. With a hoarse shout, he drags over to the cage door and rattles it.

"We werewolf proofed that door," Buffy says unconcernedly. "Good luck trying to break out."

"Why the hell am I in here to begin with?" Spike asks her. Buffy walks over to the double doors to peer down the hallway. All clear. She needs to block the window from the other side so Spike doesn't burn up. Better take something with her.

Spike watches Buffy root around for a while.

"Slayer!"

She ignores him. Buffy discovers an old wooden Sunnydale pride sign stashed in behind some potted plants. She drags it out and prepares to leave the library.

"Slayer! Answer me! What the hell is going on here? Why the fuck are we in a library?"

Buffy leaves Spike, still angrily shouting at her, to take the old sign outside.

Feeling ridiculously criminal, Buffy checks out her surroundings for any authority figures before carrying the sign over to the book cage window. It's located on an out-of-the-way side of the school where hopefully no one would see it and think to move it.

Buffy leans the sign flush up against the window. Cars whoosh by off to her left. Buffy squints through the sunlight to the street. School is out for summer, but the road isn't that far away. To Buffy's right, the practice football field stretches emptily beyond the corner of the school building.

It's weird being here in the summer. Weirder, since she's been expelled and isn't supposed to be on school grounds anymore.

The beginnings of an idea take root in Buffy's mind.

She can't go home. Mom made that clear. And while she's been kicked out of school, who really would know if she holed up here over summer break? That would give her plenty of time to recover from Angel's death and plan her next move.

Well, Giles might have something to say about it, but Buffy is beyond caring.

Once the new Slayer is called, Buffy's quitting. Slaying has brought her nothing but grief. Giles will probably not push for patrol for a while, but when he does, she'll suggest the new Slayer come to Sunnydale to help Buffy.

That's when Buffy will tell Giles. Bad enough in Hemery when slaying ruined her social life and probably her parents' marriage, then got her Watcher killed. Now, Buffy being the Slayer has led to even more personal tragedy. Jenny, Kendra, Angel. The unknown citizens Angelus and his minions killed. Her friends and family terrorized. None of that would have happened if she hadn't been the Slayer. Angel wouldn't have ever tracked her down, she wouldn't be solely responsible for Angelus.

Buffy can't just be a regular girl whose boyfriend went off the rails. She's also the warrior who let her people down by allowing evil into their midst. Too much, trying to handle both. She can't be a regular girl, but she can't be the Slayer either.

She needs time.


	3. Chapter 3

"Angelus told me all about how pathetic you people were, but this takes the fucking cake. You were just screwed over by Mr. Soulful, why the hell are you even bothering?"

Spike has been yelling and mocking for the better part of two hours. Basically since he woke up. Giles scowls, but doesn't raise his head. Willow glances up nervously over Jenny's old notes.

Xander glares at the bleached punk in the book cage. "There's a good question. Why are we bothering with this? I'm not really seeing any humanity, here."

Buffy flips listlessly through the pages. "Let's just be sure."

"What, humanity until proven soulless? That's how we're playing it now?"

"Xander, please. This is a special circumstance. Drusilla's insanity and her sight may have led to some interesting unintended consequences. If other vampires noticed something off about Spike, he may well be different because of vestigial humanity. He's always demonstrated unusual loyalty and affection for a vampire throughout history, as it is. Fascinating, to think the reason may be attributed to a vampire skewing the turning process…"

"Yeah, fascinating. What are we supposed to do with him if we figure out he does have some humanity left?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." Giles' eyes are lit with scholarly fervor.

Buffy looks over to the book cage again. Spike is sitting on the floor directly behind the cage door, head in his hands. Buffy frowns.

Oz brought some blood bags from the butcher but Spike's been refusing them all day. Buffy grabs another one out of the cooler. She approaches the door. Spike's head snaps up. His eyes are red.

"Back up." Buffy orders. He flips her off in that British-y way Giles had to explain.

Buffy opens the door and kicks him back, dropping the blood bag on the ground, then retreating again.

Ignoring the blood, Spike throws himself at the door as if he expects to crash through.

The cage holds.

"Arghhh!" Spike screams in fury. "Let me out, you bitch! Fight me or kill me! Don't drag this out, keeping me prisoner! I wouldn't do that to you! I've always been fucking straight forward with you, Slayer. Warrior to goddamned warrior." Spike weaves his fingers through the grated cage door and shakes it furiously, snarling.

Willow's eyes are big at new research table. Next to her, Oz remarks to the ceiling, "Different study atmosphere than usual."

Buffy frowns at Spike. "I'm not doing anything until Giles has his answer. Now drink the blood or starve." She returns to the table.

The cage rattles loudly as Spike continues to ram into it.

"Where are we at on this guys?" Buffy asks the table.

Giles taps his mouth. "Well, Jenny's notes are incomplete, but it seems possible that we could use her ideas on the Orb of Thesulah to get a visual representation of the nature of Spike's…nature."

Willow nods, emphatically. "We can get our hands on a crystal ball and apply the same ritual, it should show like, light and dark. Demon vs. humanity, you know?"

Buffy crosses her arms protectively around her stomach. "Okay. Let's do it."

"Jenny. That wouldn't happen to be that gypsy girl Angelus did in, would it?" Spike's voice sneers at them.

Giles stiffens and Buffy glares over at the vampire. He's leaning against the back wall, hefting the blood bag in one hand but making no move to drink.

"What of it?" Giles asks through gritted teeth. Willow shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Buffy has a bad feeling about this. Spike's got a crazy light in his eyes.

"Well, I was just wondering if you knew the whole story behind her kill. Angelus likes to leave elaborate little scenes for people to find, but I'm sure he didn't get a chance to tell you what he told me."

Paper rips in Giles' hands from how tightly he's holding it. "What did that bastard tell you." Giles' voice is dangerously soft.

Buffy looks between Giles and Spike. Realization dawns. Spike's been trying to get them to kill him since he saw Drusilla die and Angelus dusted. "Giles, stop, he's just trying to provoke you—"

"He laid her in your bed, didn't he? Fixed her limbs nicely for you. Fixed her nicely for him as well. Hope you threw out those sheets—"

Giles roars in fury and grabs a stake, charging the cage. Buffy catches Giles and drags him back. "No, Giles! Wait! Wait 'til we've proven he has no humanity. He's just trying to make us mad—"

"Well, he bloody well has!" Giles shouts, straining against Buffy's hold. Oz comes up to Giles' other side. Giles, fuming, allows himself to be led out of the library by the quiet musician.

"I hope you're happy now." Xander says, giving Spike a filthy look.

Spike lobs the blood bag at Xander through the cage. The bag explodes, splattering blood across the cage door, library floor and Xander's face.

By evening, the library is clean again and everyone has calmed down. Spike has even ceased trying to piss them off. He's sprawled out quietly on the floor, staring at the cage ceiling.

Willow chants softly under her breath. Oz waves some kind of stinky herbs over a crystal ball.

A sample of Spike's blood, gleefully taken by Giles, pools in a small ceramic bowl in the center of the table.

Buffy watches as the crystal ball flickers, opaque surface shimmering, light and dark slowly clouding inside.

Dark, veiny purple smoke shot through with wide streaks of bright glowing light.

It's not half and half, but it's pretty damn close.

"Wow," Willow breathes. "Does this mean he's half human and half demon? Wait…"

"All vampires are half human and half demon," Giles interrupts briskly. "Do it again, this time with the blood sample from the fledgling Buffy extracted earlier this evening."

Spike doesn't turn his head towards them once during the proceedings.

Willow repeats the ritual with the random vampire's blood. The crystal ball turns black with dark purple and lighter gray swirls. There's no light to be seen.

"Huh." Oz says, response not matching the severity of the situation, as usual.

Discussion breaks out around the table. Buffy stares at Spike. He's turned his back to the library.

"We'll need more examples from other vampires, of course." Giles is saying.

"Maybe not tonight," Oz says. Willow's nose is trickling blood.

"Oh, my dear. I'll do the ritual the next few times." Giles offers apologetically.

"Do we even need to?" Willow asks faintly.

Giles frowns. "It's better to have more comparisons. I'm uncomfortable coming to any conclusions from two tests alone."

Xander shakes his head. "But it looks like he really does have humanity. And he's evil! Or, he does evil."

Giles stares coolly at Spike's still figure. "Even humanity can be evil. The world is full of humans who commit heinous acts every day. Just because Spike is different from other vampires doesn't mean he's good."

Giles disappears to find more books while Oz and Xander lead Willow to Giles' office to blot her bloody nose and get her to drink some water.

Buffy approaches the cage.

"Spike, did you hear that?"

He doesn't answer.

"It looks like Drusilla really did turn you wrong." Buffy might as well be talking to a brick wall. "Have you ever wondered if you were different from other vampires? I mean, could you tell—"

"Where is she?" Spike interrupts, voice quiet and even.

"…you mean, Drusilla? We buried her in Restfield Cemetery."

Spike turns his head to face Buffy. His blue eyes, normally dancing in some kind of fiendish glee, are dark and flat. "You buried her."

"Yes."

"I want to see her."

Buffy stares hard at Spike, and comes to a split decision, remembering his apparently very real anguish at Drusilla's sacrifice.

"I'll take you to her."

Buffy leads Spike to the gravesite. Her once formidable mortal enemy staggers along beside her, grief and starvation dragging heavily on his limbs. He barely seems aware of Buffy, other than as the guide he needs to get to where he's going. Spike's hollowed eyes are fixed on some unreachable point ahead.

Buffy has seen the same thousand yard stare in the mirror every day since her seventeenth birthday. She gets it. She gets him. That's why she's doing this. If Angel…if he had a body left to put in a grave, Buffy would want to visit it, too.

Slayer and vampire arrive at Drusilla's unmarked grave. Buffy stops a few feet back. Spike stumbles forward to drop to his knees on top of the freshly turned soil. Bits of grass and vegetation have curled up out of the loamy earth. Spike sinks his fingers into the dirt and slowly leans forward until his forehead touches his knees. A rattling moan draws out of him, like it's being pulled out on a string.

Buffy's heard that sound before. Raw and muffled by her own pillow. She never thought she'd share anything with Spike, but his grief is like her own. It takes him over.

Spike remains kneeled like that for a few long minutes. A cool spring breeze lifts the hair off the back of Buffy's neck. It smells like new plants and life and possibilities. Buffy's chest feels like a gutted gourd, all the soft innards pulled out. How dare this place smell like life when all around her is death? Her childhood, her innocence, her love. Dead of night, dead resting beneath a blanket of earth, dead man crying on his dead lover's grave. Life has no place here.

Buffy watches Spike's fingers form into claws and rip the sprouting green from the surface soil. He rips and tosses and shovels down, handful by handful. His movements are slow, stilted, almost mechanical. Buffy thinks of the old carnival fortune teller game with the gypsy and her frozen painted expression, bobbing and jerking and moving her hand over the tarot cards. Buffy wonders what answer Spike hopes to find by digging.

He digs and he digs.

At one point, the soil on the sides of the grave begins to sift back into him and the shallow furrow he's carved out. The loose dirt weighs down on the tail of his duster.

A strangled cry escapes from behind his clenched teeth.

Spike wrestles off his leather coat and tosses it carelessly to the side.

He digs on.

So engrossed in watching him work, Buffy doesn't even notice Willow has joined her until the quiet girl makes an unhappy noise in the back of her throat.

"Should we stop him?" Willow whispers.

Buffy shakes her head 'no.'

Willow settles in beside Buffy and they continue their vigil.

Spike is kneeling in the dirt hole at nearly three feet in depth when Xander and Oz find them.

Xander is unusually speechless as he and Oz join the girls, forming an unintentional wall behind the vampire burrowing his way to the body below.

"We thought he escaped," Oz says.

"No." Buffy says.

Spike drags his fingers through the wetter deeper earth and marks out the width and length of the area with an artist's precision. His chest is heaving with short, deep, unnecessary breaths.

Giles arrives, panting, at Buffy's shoulder. "What in the world are you all—" he cuts himself off, seeing Spike's handiwork.

"Oh, Buffy," her Watcher murmurs, though Buffy's not sure why. She's not a part of this. She just wants to observe. No, not want. But there's closure here somewhere. Maybe enough for Buffy, too.

Spike makes a choked noise as his seeking hands reach flesh. The scooping motions become gentle brushing sweeps. Slowly, Drusilla is revealed. Her white lace covered shoulder. Her pale neck. Her dark, matted hair.

Buffy shuffles to the side to see better so when Spike cries out again she can see his accompanying tears.

Spike shushes and soothes and brushes dirt off of Drusilla like she's the one upset. He unearths most of her still body and removes dirt until the burnt out sockets of Drusilla's eyes become clear.

Spike, kneeling at his sire's side, wraps his arms around his stomach and tips his head against her chest.

A stronger breeze blows by, carrying the sounds of bare branches rustling together in the trees. A deep-voiced hound bays in the distance.

Spike slides down to lay beside Drusilla in the grave and enfolds her in his dirt-streaked arms. He tucks his face into the crook of the frail vampire's neck, nosing under her jaw. Spike goes still beside her so that they look like two inanimate corpses instead of just the one.

In the moonlight, the black of the churned earth mixes in with Drusilla's dark hair and Spike's all black clothes. Her white dress, Spike's white-blond hair, and their vampiric skin blends together so that the end-effect is like studying a black and white photo.

Buffy wonders if he means to be buried with Drusilla. Giles puts a hand on her shoulder. She looks up into her Watcher's weathered, lined face and sees sympathy there. He pulls out a handkerchief and gives it to her. Buffy realizes that her cheeks are wet with tears.

The ritual was right. Angelus had been right. For a vampire, Spike's been made wrong. Spike is filled with humanity. His grief and love and devotion are clear to see. Giles thought Spike's humanity would be twisted and dark. But here it is, and it's so human and relatable and pure that Buffy knows she can't sentence him to dust.

Buffy failed Angel utterly. She'd ruined him. Ripped his humanity right out of his body until all that remained was a perversion of nature. And she did it with love.

But Spike…Buffy hates Spike. She hates him for complicating her life. Her inner Slayer hates his very existence, knowing innocent lives have ended at his hands.

Buffy watches without expression as Spike curls up closer to the burnt out husk of a woman beside him. He cradles Drusilla to him and murmurs lovingly into her throat.

Spike is a soulless murdering demon, but he's also shot through with wide streaks of humanity.

Buffy's thoughts circle around and around. Stake him like he wants and put him out of his misery and also out of commission? She probably should.

Her gut tells her differently. Death is too easy for the likes of Spike and Buffy. Just because the loves of their lives are gone forever doesn't mean they get a free pass on existence. If Buffy can't put down her load and give up than neither can Spike.

Buffy's heart cracks open and floods her body with emotion. After feeling dead for so long, the sensation is painful, like pins and needles signaling revived limbs.

Buffy's going to help Spike. She's going to rekindle his humanity if she has to drag him there kicking and screaming. Buffy couldn't save Angel's humanity, but maybe she can save Spike's.

Maybe that isn't the mission but her calling has done nothing but screw her over. Buffy's done. She quits.

Buffy's failed at quitting the slay-gig before, but it will be different this time. Someone will be Chosen to replace Kendra. And the draw to demons Buffy can't escape from will be assuaged by serving her penance with Spike. So he's all hers. Buffy's gonna save Spike, even it kills them both.

"Sun's gonna be up in a couple hours." Buffy says, eventually.

Spike gives no indication he hears or cares.

Buffy approaches the clawed out gravesite. "Spike. Get up. It's time to go."

Spike burrows into Drusilla's side more closely.

Buffy slides down into the grave with him. Giles makes an uncertain noise above them. "Buffy, if he prefers to dust with her come morning…perhaps we should honor his wishes."

Buffy glares up at Giles. "If you came across someone trying to put a bullet in their skull, would you honor their wishes, too?"

Giles sputters, "That's entirely different."

"Because they would be human?" Willow asks softly from where Buffy can no longer see her.

"He isn't Oz, Willow." Giles voice softens as he turns to the red head.

"I thought we pretty much just figured out they were really similar." Willow argues.

"I do wonder what the ritual would make of me." Oz remarks.

Giles heaves a stressed sigh. "I fear we are getting in over our heads with this…where do we stop? Spike is a vampire; Buffy is called to slay his kind."

Willow, "Isn't she technically supposed to slay all demons? I want to help Spike. We help Oz."

The discussion fades in Buffy's ears as she refocuses on Spike. "Spike, we can bury Drusilla again, let her dust, do whatever you feel is best with her, but the sun is coming up soon. You have to get up now."

Spike says dully, "Go away." His voice is muffled in Drusilla's throat.

"Not gonna happen. Come on." No answer. "You don't really have a choice about this. I'll drag you back to the library if I have to."

Spike stiffens and turns his face so one blue eye peeks at her from the white-black plateau. "Why are you doing this? It's your job to kill me. Just let me go."

"I quit my job."

Spike snorts. "You can't do that. You're the Slayer."

"If I can't quit, then you can't either."

"What…? Are you crazy? Leave me alone."

Buffy swallows heavily. "Look, I don't know if you heard earlier, but the ritual—"

"Doesn't fucking matter. Evil vampire, here. Leave me be."

"Can't. The Slayer's job description is to kill evil. But I'm also Buffy. And what I do is save people. Those glow-y bits in the crystal ball just made saving you my new job."

Giles makes a worrisome noise outside the grave, but Buffy and Spike continue as they couldn't hear him having a mini-panic attack above their heads.

Spike huffs incredulously. "I don't want to be saved!"

"That's why suicide watch exists."

Spike glares at her fully. "Fuck. Off."

"I told you, not gonna happen. Let's go, Spike." Buffy crouches down, prepared to physically remove him from the grave.

Spike boots her in the ribs, sending her flying back.

"Ooof!" Buffy regains her footing with a frown. She wades in and catches his lashing legs and drags him out of the grave.

"Let go! Argh!" Spike flails ineffectually.

"Guess you should've been drinking that blood we got for you," Buffy pants, holding on. "Not exactly at the top of your game, are you?" She catches a glimpse of Xander's open-mouthed expression, before Spike manages to kick her in the face. She drops him.

Spike scrabbles back, still seated. "What the hell is your problem, Slayer?" Buffy stares him down evenly. He looks to Giles and the others. "This has to be against your white-hat rules, saving demons. Tell her no!"

Giles and the others look alarmed, but when she meets her Watcher's eyes Buffy sees he's going to follow her lead for now.

Giles must be somewhat torn about what to do if he wasn't putting up more of a fuss.

Giles clears his throat. "I have found telling Buffy 'no' is an exercise in futility."

Ha.

Spike turns his wide-eyed gaze back on Buffy. "Holy shit. You've lost it. Did Angelus break you or something?" Buffy flinches a little.

"Whatever your issue is, don't take it out on me!"

"I'm not!" Buffy exclaims, maybe not entirely truthfully. "Spike, choose what you want to do with Drusilla, now. We are leaving, do you want to cover her back up or let her dust?"

Spike's face crumples, a little. "…cover her." He presses a dirt-caked hand to his eyes. "She'd probably find it comforting, knowing the worms were eating her up."

Buffy hears Willow choke a little behind her. Oz steps up and together with Xander, they all manage to re-bury Drusilla under the disturbed soil.

Spike remains on his knees in front of Drusilla's grave. "Sorry, baby. I don't want to leave you but I have no choice." He brushes the dirt down even. "You and Darla and Angelus always told me going after Slayers would be the end of me, I just figured you meant one would kill me someday. Guess this is the great 'I told you so.' Now I've got a nutty one on my ass—"

Buffy clears her throat, meaningfully.

"—so if I manage to escape this shit-show with my sense of self intact, I'll be back." He kisses his knuckles and presses them down to the earth.

The sky is just beginning to lighten when the strange entourage returns to Sunnydale High.

Spike has just collapsed bonelessly back in the cage, with one final glare when Giles pulls Buffy aside in the hallway.

"Buffy, what on earth are you thinking?"

Buffy tucks her chin to her chest and crosses her arms. "Honestly Giles, I'm thinking that I can try to save him."

"I seriously doubt that."

"What did you think you were doing when you brought him here from the factory?" She asks.

"That he would be an interesting case study!"

"But now we know about the humanity."

Giles sighs. "These are murky waters, Buffy. Not everyone can be rehabilitated, and a serial killer isn't a great subject for you to start with. Since when have you felt it was your job to save someone from themself?"

Buffy says nothing.

Giles' face lines with stress. "It wasn't your fault Angel lost his soul, Buffy. You have nothing to prove here."

Buffy doesn't meet her Watcher's eyes. "It's just something to do this summer so I don't get bored," Buffy fibs.

"I'm sure the Hellmouth will offer plenty of—"

"Maybe you didn't catch what I said to Spike earlier. I wasn't going to tell you until later, Giles, but I'm done."

"…done? With slaying you mean?"

The look on Giles' face: Watcher and father, understanding and disappointment has Buffy amending her statement.

"At least I need to take a break. Maybe a long one. Another Slayer will be called soon. Bring her to Sunnydale. I'm done for now."

Giles aims his gaze beyond her to the library book cage beyond the double doors. "And this is your pet project, is it?"

Buffy wrinkles her nose. "I guess so."

Giles removes his glasses and begins to clean them slowly and thoughtfully. He carefully replaces them on his nose. "Everyone deals with grief in their own way." Giles finally meets Buffy's gaze. "I'm with you my dear, but I will intervene if this gets out of hand."

"I guess that's fair." Buffy says.

Giles rests a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment, then reenters the library.


End file.
